


The Change That Comes With War

by thesketchytepe



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-12-03 02:28:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11522631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesketchytepe/pseuds/thesketchytepe
Summary: Japan is at war with China and the battlegrounds take place on a small island that both countries plan to take over. A young Japanese solider, Honda Kiku, is wounded and stumbles around, bleeding and bruised, when he spots a lone girl named Xiao Mei. She takes care of his injuries while staying hidden from the war outside, the one that threatens to overtake her home. As they spend time together, surrounded by the looming trees of Taiwan, they learn that both love and war can make people do strange things.





	1. Prologue: Cherry Blossom Tree

**Author's Note:**

> **Hello there! Sketchy Tepe here with another fanfic for you! I’ve realized that I am in the minority when it comes to shipping Japan and Taiwan and that there isn’t a lot of fanfiction to these two cuties so I decided to come up with one. Fair warning: I have studied all that my slowly developing brain can handle when it comes to Japan and Taiwan history and I still don’t get it. I know they currently have a somewhat awkward but good relationship with each other but, for reals, this is fanfiction. I’m not going for awkward. I WANT PASSION.  
> So the war that takes place in this story kinda came up from my own brain that’s based on some true facts. I promise nothing will get confusing and I won’t be using a bunch of unwanted military terms or whatever. I’ll keep it as simple as possible (as simple as war can get).  
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy and feel free to correct my poor knowledge on Asian history. (I’m actually planning on taking a Japanese class next semester so I can speak it and understand their very unique and inspiring culture but I’m so excited about this fic that I can’t wait a whole summer to write it! So maybe it’ll get better and I’ll make more sense of it as I go along.) Happy reading!**

She felt the warm morning air wrap around her wavy hair and thin cotton dress. She smelled the various berries hanging from the surrounding trees and all the wet leaves from last night’s rain. Her bare feet carefully stepped across the fallen acorns, blue berries, and lush green leaves while her pale hand gently brushed against the rough bark of each sky-high tree. She could practically taste the heavy fog that hung in the air like a weighty burden upon your shoulders—it was dense with moisture and it began to settle on her body, damping her skin and forcing her thick hair to frizz uncontrollably.  
Despite how eerie the scene appeared, with nothing but mist and silence surrounding her, the girl strolled on, eyes searching around her, looking for the reason why she came here in the first place.  
Sounds of chirping birds flying overhead finally interrupted the muteness which made the girl smile slightly. The singing of the woodland creatures in the early morning was her favorite lullaby so she couldn’t help but to hum along to their cheerful tune.  
She turned her head to the right and peered into the fog. Her big, penny brown eyes caught the faint outline of a skinny tree hovering over an equally narrow river. Her smile widened and her legs pranced over to her destination.  
The cold, wet grass tickled the bottom of her feet, causing her to squeal and giggle to herself, hurrying across the field. When she reached the tree, she happily wrapped her arms around the thin trunk and glanced up towards the branches, which stretched over the clear water and to the forest on the other side like some sort of sign, like a crooked hand showing her the way.  
She studied the blooming flowers that lightly coated the tree’s branches. They fashioned a lovely soft pink color and their wide petals opened towards the ash-colored sky. She stood on her tiptoes to reach the blossom closest to her, plucking it from its stem and inhaling its sweet scent before sticking it in her hair (her hair was so thick and heavy that it reminded her of a fishing net: anything could get caught and stay caught).  
Just then, the girl’s head snapped up at the sound of something exploding in the distance. It came from the forest ahead, from where the cherry blossom tree was pointing at. She froze, watching, waiting. Two minutes later, another explosion.  
Her heart sped up and her eyes grew wide. Those booming echoes weren’t the first time she heard them, however, but she was slowly getting accustomed to the smell of gunfire and the battle cries of dying men. These violent senses came out of nowhere and it didn’t seem like they were going away anytime soon.  
The girl took a deep breath; it came out small and in a tremble, but it helped her calm down a bit. Her fingers absentmindedly stroked the soft petals in her hair as her eyes drifted to the lapping river below. She focused on the calming blue color of the water, trying to zone out the sounds of war.  
She hugged the cherry blossom tree again, and she only let go when she heard the explosions getting closer.


	2. Fight or Flight

The closer they got to shore, the more Kiku’s heart pound against his chest. He tried not to squirm in his seat in the boat, but instead, attempted to sit up straight like the rest of the comrades that surrounded him, staring at the destruction that lied before them.  
Bodies of both Chinese and Japanese men were scattered about the swaying sea and the sandy beaches. The Japanese had jumped off their rowboats and were running up the piles of severed limbs with giant, black guns, while the Chinese hurried to file another ball into their canons at the top of the hill. The smell of raw flesh and the taste of gunpowder in the air made Kiku’s stomach flip in a nauseating way. Canons firing, figures exploding, men screaming—the scene was enough to give anyone nightmares for the rest of their lives.   
As a way of calming himself down, Kiku thought of his home back in Japan; reading a book on the back porch, tending to the camellia flowers in the garden, meditating in his bedroom with the sunlight gently shaping his face. But then the memory of being sent to war quickly emerged in his mind and what little hope he had left was utterly destroyed.  
China declared war on Japan when they discovered that Kiku’s country was attempting to conquer a small island located below China—the Chinese called it Taiwan—which was currently under Chinese power. Japan refused to back down, even though their soldiers were dropping like flies and the weapon quantity started to slowly decrease. They went as far as yanking 18-year-old boys out of their homes (including Kiku) and plunged them into the horrors of war. This Chinese-Japanese war had only gone on for a few months, but it felt like centuries to Kiku.   
The raven-haired boy snapped out of his thoughts when he heard his captain—near the front of the boat with an assault rifle in his hands and a katana at his side—scream “Charge!” before throwing himself out from the rowboat and into the sea below, the water encircling his knees.   
With a battle cry, Kiku’s comrades followed suit and trudged through the saltwater all the while loading bullets into their guns or unsealing their swords. Kiku, on the other hand, quickly and quietly trailed behind the determined men. Sweat traced down his temple as he shakenly loaded his shotgun and tried to catch up with his captain.   
And he held back his screams when his fellow comrades fell back into the ocean, several small bullets piercing through their flesh, tainting the blue waves with their red blood.   
Kiku, despite all the rambled and frantic thoughts flying around in his mind, set his eyesight on his captain many meters away, jumping over dead soldiers in order to get to him quicker.   
He watched his captain dive behind a sand dune with three other soldiers so he went around to join them. His captain, however, expressed a look of utmost concern when he spotted Kiku running toward them, out in the open.   
“Honda!” he shouted just as he struck out a foot at the teen, causing him to trip dramatically; with his hands still grasping at his gun in front of him and his chest sore from landing ungracefully onto the clumpy sand. His captain then grabbed the back of his collar and dragged him to his side. Just as he straightened into a sitting position, a large cannonball violently slammed into the exact spot where Kiku had lied just a moment ago, burying itself deep into the sand.   
A shudder ripped through his spine when he realized how easily that thing could’ve smashed him in, making him explode in a wild burst of blood and organs.   
“Watch your surroundings, Honda!” his captain bellowed in his face. “Now’s not the time for screwing things up!” He risked a glance over the sand dune to survey the area before sitting back down and turning to his young and terrified soldiers.   
He then began barking orders at them, using a bunch of military terms and gestures to assist him in explaining his plan. From what Kiku understood, he and the other soldiers were to follow their captain up the sandy hill and take out the men controlling the canons. It was risky, but there were enough dead bodies around them to use as shields.   
Of course, using corpses to help them survive seemed a little disrespectful to the fallen privates about them, their blood staining the bright sand of the once peaceful beach, but when in the middle of war, you must do everything you can to survive.   
With their guns fully loaded and their courage still intact, Kiku and the three other cadets quickly trailed behind their captain, crouching behind sand dunes and peeking over occasionally to shoot at the Chinese.   
They managed to make it up the steep hill without any casualties from their small group—Kiku believed that was because of the other soldiers that somehow survived the unbreakable cannonballs and the countless bullets being thrown at them, not to mention the sight of their dead friends surrounding them. About a dozen Japanese men had climbed up to the enemy’s station and began to wreak havoc upon their friends’ murderers.   
They fired the rest of their bullets at the enemy and, when all shells had been emptied out, Kiku’s people unleashed their katanas and transferred over to slicing, stabbing, and cutting. The Chinese abandoned their canons, pulling out small but very sharp knives from their jacket pockets. Although the long blades of the katana would slash through their uniforms easily and pierce their skin, the short knives were actually getting the job done, better and faster. The Japanese were failing the fight simply due to the fact that they were utterly exhausted from trying to outrun the cannonballs.   
More Japanese men dropped to the ground as the Chinese continuously stabbed at them, blood staining blistered hands and sandy plains. Kiku tightened his grip on his rifle, body tensing, eyes bulging. He wanted to help, he really did, but he didn’t know how. All these men were much more talented than he, had more training. Yet they were the ones who were falling.   
That’s because you’re doing nothing like a quitter, his mind told him. At least they fought their best before they fell, you coward.   
After that thought, Kiku snapped to attention when he heard the sound of a man running at him, screaming a fearless battle cry as he held up a blood-soaked knife.   
The small Japanese man instantly backed away from his potential killer as fast as he could, attempting to aim the barrel of his gun straight at his head. But the man was much too fast and was on top of him before he even knew it, causing him to fall back and his gun to fire off into the baby blue sky above.   
The Chinese soldier screamed again as he held his sharp knife and tried to drive it deep into Kiku’s skull, but luckily, he saw it coming and quickly moved his head out the way, the knife plunging into the sand beside him. Kiku took the opportunity that the Chinese man unknowingly gave him when he struggled to retrieve his weapon from the deep, thick sand to reload his rifle and aim the tip underneath the enemy’s chin and pull the trigger.   
Cadet Honda had squeezed his eyelids shut when he shot him—he didn’t want to see the damage he caused. He did, however, hear the wet explosion of the man’s head firing off in a wild burst of blood and gore and felt splotches of his remains land against his upper form. He then pushed the slump body off of him with the edge of his gun, which fell beside him with a hard thud.   
He went to wipe away all the red soggy chunks covering his eyes—he could hardly see the baby blue sky anymore—but he instead felt someone yank him up from the ground by his armpit.   
“Get up, Honda!” he heard his captain shout at him. “Advance toward the enemy! They’re escaping!”   
Kiku turned to his right. He saw some of his fellow comrades sprint after the remaining Chinese soldiers that had begun to run deeper into the tropical woods. He didn’t know if they were trying to escape their deadly fate or trying to head back to their camp, to their headquarters. But it didn’t matter—they were supposed to kill them either way.   
Kiku hurried after his captain, holding his rifle in one hand while he scrubbed at the blood around his eyes. His boots stomped on wet grass and mud puddles the further they traveled into the forest. He could still smell gunpowder in the air but new scents came along the breeze as well, like sweet mangos and damp leaves. The ocean could still be heard from where he was, but it started to fade away and was replaced by squawking birds and pounding feet. Heavy mist slowly came into view, slightly soaking his black hair, his bright red skin.   
“Stop!” Kiku’s captain yelled at the escaping Chinese. “Surrender!”   
But instead of taking the easy way, they suddenly whipped around and did the exact opposite: they charged toward them with their bloodied knives, holding them high above their heads before throwing them straight into the tiny group of Japanese soldiers surrounding them.   
It was much too fast; a comrade fell in front of him with a hunting knife buried deep in his chest, his captain beside him cried out in agony as a blade plunged itself into his kneecap, and he even felt his right shoulder erupt in sudden pain, causing him to fling backwards and land hard on his back, his own rifle flying somewhere behind him from the impact.   
Kiku gasped aloud, feeling his warm blood soak through his uniform and pool around him. The pain made him want to curl up in a ball and cradle his bleeding shoulder, to either heal it immediately or to run away from it. But, unfortunately, he couldn’t do either of those things except to wrap his trembling hands around the handle of the knife and slowly remove it from his body part.   
He bit back a cry—it came out in a strained grunt—as he felt the dagger slide through his insides before finally exiting the wound, small circles of blood splattering onto the forest floor. His grip on the sharpened weapon tightened as he struggled to inhale and exhale properly again. But, when in war, no pity or hesitation is established on such tainted grounds and the silent rule (as expected) applied to Kiku’s situation here once he spotted a Chinese man coming for him, his dark eyes piercing through his soul.   
Kiku went to defend himself by lamely holding up the blade that had penetrated him, but just then his captain grabbed the gun Kiku had dropped and shot the foe in the lower abdomen.   
As the combatant fell at their feet, the Japanese captain turned his head toward his last remaining soldier. Kiku stared back, at his gun aiming to the treetops, at the knife growing from his kneecap. He watched him wince in pain before throwing a determined glare at him.   
“Go, Honda!” he shouted. “Get out of here!”   
The demand surprised him, shocked him. What did he mean? Retreat? Advance? Where was he supposed to go? The overwhelming urge to assist his wounded captain took over his mind rather than the expected impulse to obey his leader.   
He shakenly got to his feet and stumbled two steps toward the captain but flinched away when he barked at him even louder. “I said get out of here, Honda! That is an order! Don’t make me repeat myself.”   
Kiku hesitated, but only for a moment, as he tried to see things from his captain’s point of view. He had a knife stuck in his knee—there was no way he could stand, much less run. He probably couldn’t even do a proper army crawl. And even though Kiku had conjure up some strength and muscle during training, he had to admit that he didn’t have enough might to carry him around. Not to mention the lack of medical supplies they needed to dress their wounds.   
There was no other choice—Kiku had to leave his captain behind.   
The young soldier bit the inside of his cheek, stuffed his newly acquired knife in his pants pocket, and then mumbled out a melancholy “Yes, sir.”   
These were the first words he had spoken that day and were the last ones he gave to his captain.   
Kiku clasped down on his pierced shoulder and turned to run, grabbing the katana that was lying beside the fallen Japanese fighter, the one who got struck in the heart with the dagger. He kept running as fast as he could, further into the misty woods, not daring to look back when he heard the sound of a man screaming heroically and several gunshots exploding. He told himself to keep on going, to follow orders, to not let the captain down. He pushed off trees, hopped over boulders, whipped corners, ducked under branches.   
And then he made the mistake of peeking over his shoulder.   
It wasn’t what he saw behind him that caused his next unfortunate destiny—his captain’s murderers hadn’t come into his line of vision yet—but it was his failure to watch where he was going that triggered him to trip over an oddly-shaped rock and to tumble down a nearly vertical hill.   
Pain erupted from his body as he smashed against trees, somersaulted across wet grass and millions of tiny pebbles, sliced at himself with his dead comrade’s katana. His stumble seemed to go on for hours and hours even though it only lasted a few seconds. He had landed hard on his stomach at the bottom of the hill, his physique aching and throbbing. He slowly shifted around so that he was lying on his back and cradling his blood-soaked arm and looking up at the massive hill he just rolled down.   
He stifled back agonizing moans once he saw the two Chinese soldiers run across the small mountain’s peek, their silhouettes sprinting through the thick haze, hurrying in the direction where they thought Kiku headed off to. When he didn’t hear their stomping feet anymore, he let out a strangled gasp and squeezed his right arm, feeling more blood flow from his wounds.   
There was a long tear in the sleeve of his coconut brown uniform, but Kiku refused to examine his own injury now. He told himself that he needed to find a safe sanctuary first before he cared for his damaged arm. And so he weakly reached for his katana and then studied his surroundings, trying to figure out where exactly he was.   
And then, within the heavy mist, he saw her.   
A girl around his age was standing several meters away from him, a look of utter shock and horror marking her features. Big brown eyes were widened so much that they appeared to be on the edge of popping out of her sockets. Her small round nose and thin pink lips had scrunched up in surprise. She held a woven basket in her hands (which was filled with all sorts of fruits and berries) but, upon closer inspection, Kiku noticed that she was gripping its handles so tightly that her knuckles were turning white, the bone bulging out from beneath the skin. Through the fog he could also make out the girl’s thick, brown hair cloak around her torso and her thin white dress hang limply from her shoulders and gather around her knees.   
So many questions clouded Kiku’s mind at the sight of this unknown woman. Who was she and where did she come from? No females came here with the Japanese today—was she a Chinese nurse or spy? But her attire is what confused him the most; all she wore was that simple cotton dress. She looked so vulnerable, so unprepared for all the bloodshed that was caused just a few meters away.   
Speaking of which.   
More pain bit at his nerves as Kiku gripped his shoulder and tried to swallow down an aching groan. The girl, however, was somewhat frightened by this action and had gasped loudly and stumbled back a few feet, some yellow mangos falling from her basket. His head snapped back toward her. If the Chinese were nearby, then they would surely hear this girl’s screams no doubt. He had to calm her down.   
“Wait!” he called to her in Japanese, attempting to keep his own voice low. She stopped, her thin eyebrows crushed together in confusion. He tried again. “Uh, can you understand me?” he asked in Chinese this time.   
Very slowly, she nodded her head.   
Somewhat satisfied with this answer, Kiku threw his katana to the side and spread his bloody palms toward the girl in submission. He knew that this was probably a bad idea, but he was bleeding rapidly and was in so much pain that he had no choice but to put his life in her hands, to plead for mercy.   
“Please help me,” he continued in the Chinese language. He was so puzzled with himself—why was he begging for a stranger’s assistance? What if she really was with the enemy? How was he so willing to risk everything just to be spared this one time? All these questions ran through his mind at once, but he ignored them all the same.   
The girl flinched at the sight of dark red staining Kiku’s hands, his chest, his face. Her expression was one of pure disgust and fear. If she was this uncomfortable with being around blood, then there was no way that she could possibly be involved in this gruesome war.   
Right?   
When she made no effort to move, Kiku lowered his hands and clutched his battered body, groaning under his breath in serious discomfort. “I’m sorry…for scaring you,” he managed in panted breaths. “I’m just…very hurt.”   
The voices in his head and the chirping birds above began to blur together, becoming distant and echoic. His brain suddenly felt light-headed and all the strength in his limbs gave out. He tried so hard to keep his eyelids open, but he was just so very tired.   
The last thing he saw before he blacked out was the shaky silhouette of the mysterious girl slowly sinking her woven basket to the wet ground and taking a couple cautious steps towards his way.


	3. From Gunfire and Smoke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance for the short chapter. Xiao Mei is a difficult character for me to write in her perspective--I'm not a very happy-go-lucky person, I'm more monotone and quiet like Kiku. :) But I'll get better! I promise! Happy reading!

Xiao Mei had no idea what she was doing either.   
A few hours had pass by since she spotted the injured man at the foot of the hill, covered in bruises and blood. He passed out after apologizing for causing such a scene. At that, she knew she couldn’t leave him behind. Even if he was drenched with gore and armed with sharp weapons, she knew one thing and one thing only: she had to save him.   
Within two hours, Mei had half-dragged half-carried the boy to her home, placed him on her bed, and helped clean up his wounds. She somehow stitched up the deep tears in his right arm and shoulder without throwing up her breakfast and succeeded in wiping off the blood from his pale skin. The boy was still asleep when she had finished so she decided to hurry back to that hill and retrieve her basket of mangos and the boy’s long sword.   
With her woven basket balanced on one hip, Mei speedily went to pick up the weapon and run away before another hurt solider came tumbling down the hill again. But the blade was much heavier than she expected, almost bringing her to the ground. So instead she gripped the slick handle as tightly as she could and sped off, letting the wind practically carry the sword behind her.   
When she returned home and found her stranger still lying motionless upon her bed, she quickly and quietly snatched the knife she saw in one of his pockets earlier and then snuck both of his weapons beneath an old, creaky floorboard in the kitchenette.   
Now that all unnecessary weaponries were tucked away and not a drop of blood was in sight, Mei picked a spot on the floor to sit, slipped her calves underneath her, and then watched the bandaged boy sleep while bubbles of thoughts floated to her mind.   
What was going on? Mei knew that there was serious fighting happening in the distance, far beyond the hemlock trees, but she never actually saw one of the participants in action before. This particular fighter, however, was much kinder than she expected (or maybe “soother” was a better word). He made no move to attack her nor did he threaten her being in any way. Instead, he asked for help and then apologized before falling into a deep sleep. She would’ve never guessed that this man would be the outcome of all the gunfire she heard and all the smoke she smelled.   
But that must’ve been the reason why she decided to save him. She could’ve just left him there, to let him bleed out and rot in the wet grass. But it was because he didn’t mean any harm that she felt compelled to help him.   
She felt compelled to be better than the gunfire and smoke. To be this nameless soldier’s salvation.   
Mei craned her neck forward, her fuzzy hair brushing against her knees, her brown eyes zooming in on the boy’s figure. This young man was the only other human life she had seen in such a long time. She herself was the only humanoid company she had. Yes, she did have the pleasure of watching beautiful plants grow and to play with the hares and mice that passed by, but she had to admit, sometimes she still felt lonely.   
Her shoulders and eyebrows rose to the sky as a wondrous thought came to her brain: Could this newcomer be her ticket to friendship and new opportunities?   
Her heart soared at the idea.   
She continued to observe the man sleeping in her bed when she noticed him stirring a bit. Her body instantly perked up as she witnessed the boy absentmindedly rub his eyes, knit together his eyebrows, and then blink his eyelids a few times before gasping quietly and shoot up into a sitting position.   
Mei said nothing. She waited until he carefully inspected the room around him, pausing at the sight of the gauze, thread, and scissors on the nightstand next to him. His small eyes absorbed everything there was to offer in the bedroom (which wasn’t much) and then jolted a bit when he peered out the doorway and saw Mei sitting on the floor in the kitchen.   
For a moment, the two just stared at each other, speechless and captivated. Now that all the blood had been washed off his skin, Mei could finally get a good look at him without feeling squeamish. He had pale skin, raven-black hair that hung just below his ears, and small eyes that were so dark that the color could’ve easily been mistaken for black. In fact, his facial features were little and long, making him look young and perhaps a bit feminine. Skinny eyebrows, straight nose, thin lips, high cheekbones. Nothing much like her chubby self.   
She took a look at his chest too, checking to make sure that he wasn’t bleeding through his bandages. She had wrapped white gauze multiple times around his right shoulder and bicep after sealing his stab wounds with cream thread and dull scissors. Mei thought she did an okay job, but still felt anxious about it. A quick glance at his scrawny yet muscular chest was enough to tell her that she did something right for she didn’t see any drop of blood or purple hue bloom across his skin due to infection.   
A tiny smile creeped upon her lips.   
He was alright.   
She stated this aloud: “You’re okay.”   
The boy distractedly touched his bound arm, glanced at the medical supplies on the nightstand, and looked back at her, putting two-and-two together. “Y-Yes, I am.” He lowered his head. “Thank you so much.”   
Her smile widened and an innocent giggle escaped her. “I’m happy I could help.” She bowed her head back and looked up. “My name is Xiao Mei. What’s yours?”   
The army man paused before answering. “Honda Kiku.”   
“Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Kiku-san.” Mei straightened up her posture. “Do you have any other injuries that need assistance?”   
At that, the boy peered down at himself and seemed to finally realize that he wasn’t wearing his uniform from the waist up because his facial features heightened in embarrassment as he hurriedly bunched up her blanket in his fists and pulled the fabric close to his chest, flustered.   
“N-No, thank you, ma’am. I’m quite alright.”   
She giggled before slowly standing up. “Don’t be silly; call me Mei.” She smoothed out her dress and looked at Kiku. “I didn’t know that someone born from gunfire and smoke could be so polite.”   
He watched her strangely. “Born of…”   
She nodded and then pointed toward the front door of her home, toward the direction of the enormous hill they had come from. “I found you where I hear explosions the most. You came tumbling down, covered in blood and smoke.” She peered at him curiously. “You’re the cause of it, aren’t you?”   
Mei couldn’t read Kiku’s facial expression clearly—it looked like a mix of shame and confusion. And before she could stop herself, she asked almost innocently, “Why are you fighting on my land?”   
She quickly shut her mouth and replaced it with a smile. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so rude. Forget I ever said anything!” Mei spun around, feeling an awkward blush spread across her cheeks as she went to grab her woven basket. She kept her head down as she scooped Kiku’s now-blood-free jacket from the basket and gently placed it in Kiku’s hands.   
“Looks like you’re gonna have to stay here for a while,” she informed him. “You twisted your ankle while coming down the hill, so you’ll have to stay off your feet for a few days.”   
As Mei spoke, Kiku had wrapped his military jacket around his shoulders, the thick heavy fabric concealing his torso and arms from her. When he finally processed her advice, he looked back up at her, an expression of muddle crossing his features.   
“Ma’am—er, Mei-san, I greatly appreciate everything you’ve done for me. I really do, more than I could ever describe to you. But I must leave. I have to serve my country.”   
At this, the brunette girl frowned and narrowed her eyes. She set her basket upon the hardwood flooring then crossed her arms. “I don’t care,” she said blandly. “You hurt yourself badly and now you need serious help. And besides, I don’t like fighting for this very reason; people get hurt. Violence is never the answer.”   
The man in her bed blinked in slight surprise. Even though he didn’t seem very upset (in fact, he appeared as if he might even agree with her) Mei sighed quietly in guilt and uncrossed her arms. “I’m sorry. It’s just…” She batted her eyelids quickly to get rid of the tears that now threatened to spill from her eyes. “Why do you have to fight?”   
Neither spoke for a moment; they just stared at each other unwaveringly. Mei attempted to hold her determined face together as Kiku slightly leaned forward, peering up at her with both curiosity and sympathy in his small eyes, and mumbled out, “Do you know where you are?”   
The girl with the cherry blossom in her hair straightened her posture and answered confidently and stubbornly, “This is Taiwan, and you’re shedding blood on my land.”


	4. Who Are You?

Kiku had a lot to think about.   
An hour or so had passed since his awkward conversation with Mei-san ended. He was now sitting straight up in her bed while he silently observed his savior slice up the yellow mangos that were previously in that woven basket of hers. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor right beside the bed with a cutting board in front of her. He was a little uncomfortable with her being so close to him; he’d never been this physically close to a girl before (one that wasn’t his mother—before being sent to the training grounds for the military he usually spent his days being homeschooled by his father or avoiding the neighborhood kids that would run up and down the street, laughing and cheering). But this girl, Xiao Mei, from what he gathered, appeared to be the only one living in this tiny house. He couldn’t hear any other movements or other voices around them and there wasn’t much furniture or food or clothes in sight.   
She was much lonelier than him.   
From her offended rant earlier, Kiku believed that Mei had been staying on the island for a long time and was a strong pacifist—perhaps she was born here? But how could that be? Taiwan was supposed to be a remote island that the Chinese military were currently inhabiting and the Japanese military were trying to overthrow them. That was it—nothing more, nothing less. But this house, this girl, was a lot more than he would’ve expected.   
He snapped out of his thoughts when he noticed a large piece of wet, yellow mango being shoved in his face. “Here, eat this,” Mei ordered him. “You need to gain your energy back.”   
He was about to politely turn down the offer when he was interrupted by the low sound of his stomach growling. He quickly clutched at it, embarrassed, while Mei giggled silently to herself. “I think your stomach agrees with me.” She placed the sliced mango piece in his hands and sent him a wide smile. “The yellow mango is my favorite. Super sweet and goes with almost anything.”   
“Thank you,” he mumbled to her before biting off a small chunk and chewing it slowly. She was right—the fruit was really sweet.   
Mei gathered up her knife, her cutting board, and the rest of her chopped-up mango in her arms and then stood up from her place on the floor. She was about to head out the bedroom doorway, struggling to keep all her things in her short arms (that juggling knife made him a bit nervous), when her wide brown eyes suddenly flew over to his being.   
She eyed him up and down once more before she spoke: “Wearing all that battle gear must be uncomfortable. I’m sure I have something around here that would fit you. Hold on a moment!” And then she hurriedly left the room.   
Kiku continued nibbling on the mango piece as his narrowed eyes scanned the girl’s bedroom once again.   
He sat upon an old, worn-out mattress with a deep green blanket covering his being and a large red pillow cradled his right foot (which was wrapped tightly with bandages and swollen like a grapefruit). Her bed had no platform, only the flat mattress beneath him. The hardwood flooring was the color of straw and the walls the color of moss. A small dresser with a small mirror stood at the far end of the room; a hairbrush and half a dozen cherry blossoms scattered among the dresser’s top. The mirror was oval-shaped and built into the furniture and had black stains lining the edges of it, a sign that it had been here for quite a while. On his right, haywire-like windows took up the entire wall; outside he could see nothing but green—green trees, green grass, green bushes, green plants.   
He frowned at the sight. There was no distinct features among the misty grounds—he could literally be anywhere.   
Kiku had just swallowed the remains of his mango when Mei came back into the room with her cutting board gone and a deep blue kimono replaced in her arms.   
“Here you go!” she said in a cheerful voice, a wide smile present on her face. “Because it looks like you’re going to stay here for a little while—you know, until your ankle heals again—you need to learn to trust me.” Her caramel-colored eyes watched him for a moment before she continued, looking back at the fabric in her hands. “Anyway, this is my father’s kimono. He is a bit taller than you, but is about the same build as you, so it should fit you comfortably.”   
She handed the article of clothing to Kiku, who hesitantly accepted it with another bow of the head. His thumbs rubbed across the smooth fabric, reminding him of home, of Japan. This thought made him curious about Mei’s race—they were still speaking in the Chinese language but there was something about her features and accent that caused him to think twice about it.   
“Mei-san,” he began. “May I ask you some questions?”   
“After you change. I’ll make us something to eat while you do so and then maybe I can show you around my house afterwards.” She held a pointer finger in the air. “That is if you’re able to move around on your feet, of course!”   
The girl left the room once again before he could say anymore.   
Kiku sighed with impatience in his throat. Getting out of here was going to take a lot more effort than he thought.   
It took him longer than necessary to put on the kimono. He hadn’t moved much since he woke up so no pain had coursed through his veins. But now that he was forced to shift his legs around, he felt his bulging ankle sting and throb at every movement he commanded. Still, he went on with slowly removing his clothes and slipping into the kimono (which fit him almost perfectly).   
When he was done, he placed his injured foot back on the red pillow and slouched forward, a little out of breath. Damn it, he thought. I can’t go back like this. I can barely move without hurting myself. How can I assist in taking down the Chinese? How can I avenge Captain’s murderers? How can I be useful?   
His head turned toward the closed doorway that Mei kept entering and exiting. But…I can’t just leave her here alone. She’s so helpless, so innocent. Wait, didn’t she say she has a father? Where is he? She speaks of him as if he’s here, but he’s not. Not that I’ve seen. Plus, she’s oblivious to the war going on around her. If someone else were living with her, then surely they would’ve protected her at all costs, especially if it was a father or a mother. So where are they?   
Should I be the one to protect her?   
Kiku shook his head at that. I can’t do that. I have a whole country to protect. Besides, she’s doing just fine, whether on her own or with another person. I’m grateful, but I can’t stay…   
A tiny sigh escaped him. What was he to do?   
One moment later, Mei returned with a giant bowl filled to the rim with all sorts of fruits and veggies. Each one was cut into short cubes and she carried two wooden pairs of chopsticks in between her delicate fingers.   
“I have fruit!” she cried excitedly. She strolled over to his bedside and then plopped down next to him. She set the bowl in front of her, handed a pair of chopsticks to him, and offered him another one of her gracious smiles. “Sorry if it’s not what you wanted. I didn’t want you waiting so I finished cutting up the rest of the fruit I picked today. I hope you don’t mind.”   
“No, not at all. Thank you, Mei-san.”   
“Please, just call me Mei.” She plucked a piece of pineapple from the bowl with her chopsticks.   
Kiku bowed his head bashfully but didn’t say anything. Instead, he peeked up at Mei through his low bangs and thought some more.   
What a strange person. A few minutes ago, she was upset with me for fighting on her land, but now… He studied her sparkling eyes and smiling lips. She’s as friendly and helpful as can be. What are her intentions? How can she be well educated in human health and anatomy and the outline of the island but not know why there’s a war happening around her? Just…who exactly are you?   
He blinked out of his thoughts when he heard Mei giggle quietly to herself. “Even if I didn’t put much effort into making this meal, you’ll still hurt my feelings if you don’t eat, you know.”   
An unknown emotion swam through Kiku’s stomach at those words, causing him to steady his chopsticks in between his fingers and grabbing a slice of watermelon before popping it into his mouth and swallowing it whole.   
Mei laughed, covering her mouth with her hand. “My mother used to do that to get me to eat my food. It worked every time.” She took another bite at a piece of dragon fruit.   
Kiku straightened at the word “mother”. “Where are your parents now?” he asked her carefully.   
She swallowed and then shrugged. “I’m not entirely sure. They left north a few months ago when the explosions first started. They told me that they were going to find out where the noises were coming from and try to put an end to it. I haven’t seen them since.”   
A few months ago? When the explosions first started? China had declared war on Japan back in early March and it was now late July. Kiku’s shoulders slumped a little. “I’m very sorry to hear that.”   
“Don’t be. They’ve been gone for long periods of time before. They’ll be back.” She continued eating happily, not understanding Kiku’s original thoughts.   
His thin eyebrows upturned sadly at Mei’s response. He didn’t want to be the one to tell her the possible demise of her dear parents so he decided to keep quiet about it—for now, at least.   
He asked her another question: “How long have you been here?”   
She smiled. “All my life. My mother likes to tell the story of how she and my father met. Long story short, they fell in love at first sight but their love was doomed from the start.” She said this in a theatrical voice with her hands flying about her, like she was the narrator of a play, capturing her audience with her ballerina-like movements. “For she was Chinese and he was Japanese and if anyone knew about the love blossoming between the two, havoc would rain from the sky. And so they ran. They didn’t bother to tell anyone where or when they were going—they didn’t know these things themselves—and so they just snuck out from their homes, ran to the sea together where there sat a makeshift boat they had prepared themselves, and paddled away. They soon reached the shores of Taiwan and it is here where they brought me into the world and continue to live the rest of their happy lives.”   
One phrase stuck out like a sore thumb to Kiku: “She was Chinese and he was Japanese.” That sentence alone was enough to explain the whole situation. The two races loathed each other more than anything so it made sense that the star-crossed lovers would flee to an unknown country to be rid of their families insults and curses, to be free in their own world. Mei came into that world in almost pure bliss; she only knew her parents’ unconditional love and nothing else. She didn’t know about betrayal or fear or hate. Violence and suffering were only heard of in her nightmares.   
She doesn’t know anything, Kiku thought to himself with a twitch. Why do I feel so envious of her?   
“I’m glad I was born here,” Mei added, tone and eyes turning dreamy. “Even though it can get lonely sometimes, I’m glad to be a part of this land.”   
“Does that mean you are the only native of this island?”   
“In all my sixteen years of life, I’ve never seen someone else who isn’t my parents.” Her pupils landed on him. “That is until I found you.” She picked at the fruit in the bowl. “Now, Mr. Honda, I know that you are Japanese because that was the first language you spoke to me and you share very similar physical traits with my father. I know you are fighting something or someone beyond that hill. And I also know that my parents left in that direction.” She glanced up. “I must ask you a question now: what exactly is going on and what are you people doing here?”   
Kiku could hear the same anger in her voice as before and knew that he couldn’t really blame her. He gently placed his chopsticks on the ground next to him and sighed quietly. “Japan and China are at war with each other. They both are fighting for possession of Taiwan. This has been going on for several months, almost a year, but not much has been resolved. I was forced out of my home back in Japan and put through military training shortly before being sent here to kill the Chinese. I saw many men die in a few short moments, including my comrades and my captain. I…” He stared hopelessly at the fruit bowl, recalling all the bloodshed that he encountered not too long ago. “…don’t want to be here.”   
He didn’t have to look up to know that Mei was shaken by his words. From the corner of his eye, he could see her tiny hands clutch her white dress and her wrists tremble slightly. He also heard her breathing become shallower, longer.   
Pity tugged at his ribcage. This girl was practically left all alone on this entire island to fend for herself, her parents more than likely slaughtered by the ruthless Chinese. If just talk of chaos was enough to cause such a reaction from her, how on earth was she to stand up for herself when the enemy does come for her?   
“But…” Kiku bit the inside of his cheek in thought before restarting his statement, his promise. “But as long as I am here, I will protect you from all harm.” He bowed his head lower to the ground. “I promise you, Mei.”


	5. Taiwan

A week and a half had pass by since Mei brought the military man, Honda Kiku, to her home. She must admit: having that boy around certainly kept her busy and on her feet. Of course, he was always polite and never asked for anything nor did he say that she was giving him too much attention or treatment. So she continued to be her worry-wart self and fret over her guest.   
She was now outside the house, picking at weeds surrounding the small structure. As she yanked another plant out of the ground and threw it to the side, she smeared the back of her hand across her sweaty forehead. Her big eyes glanced up at the home that her mother and father built when they first arrived in Taiwan.   
Now, after hearing the Japanese man’s story, she knew why her parents organized the house the way they did. Mei remembered asking them when she was a child why they had chosen to build their home deep within the rainforest, low bushy branches and heavy mist usually neighboring it. She exclaimed that it would be better by the beach, where they would always hear the crashing of the waves and feel the nice sun upon their skin. They never gave her a straight answer and now she wondered if they thought that either the Chinese or the Japanese would come after them; that’s why their house was so hidden, so out of sight.   
The whole house was constructed out of wood and stone, so it blended in well with the surrounding trees and boulders. Dark and dull colors adorned the place: green, brown, black, grey. No screens or glass covered the few windows that were placed randomly around the house. The only thing that added any life, any real color, to the boring structure were the occasional adenium flowers that popped up in leafy bushes circling the scenery.   
It was the perfect “hiding in plain sight” scenario.   
Mei sighed and jerked out one more weed before standing back up, brushing off dirt and leaves that clung to her sky blue dress, and then headed back inside.   
Once she closes the front door shut, she rises on her tiptoes and stretches her arms high above her head, a high-pitched yawn escaping her chapped lips. She lowered herself back to the ground and walked over to her bedroom—or the guest bedroom for the time being.   
When she gently and quietly opened the door and peeked inside, she spotted Kiku positioned near the large window with his hands flat on the floor and his feet dangling in the air, performing a handstand. His body shook a little as he struggled to hold his weight in the air. The white T-shirt he wore was slowly slipping from the waistband of his rolled-up brown pants (both articles of clothing came with his uniform) and hung loosely around his torso. Still, as his legs toppled from side to side, his shaky arms lowered and rose, lowered and rose; it appeared as though he were attempting to do push-ups while trying to maintain his unsteady handstand.   
Mei gasped and then called out his name: “Kiku!”   
The shout surprises him and causes him to lose his concentration. His feet kicked forward and his elbows twitched randomly and his whole body goes crashing down, landing hard on his back.   
Mei gasped again, the sound more concerned this time. “I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed as her small feet slap against the flooring, running to the still-injured man who was grasping at his bound ankle in pain. “Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself? Oh, I’m so sorry that I distracted you and caused you to fall but oh, you really shouldn’t be doing stuff like that! You’ll hurt yourself again and then I’ll have to fix your wounds again and then we’ll be back where we started off!” She let out a breath after her rant and stared at him, red-faced.   
Kiku stared back at her—his expression didn’t change much except for the slight wrinkles in his forehead as the pain in his foot began to wear off. “Uh—“   
Mei interrupted with a loud groan and marched over to the corner of the room. She grabbed a makeshift crutch she crafted herself out of bamboo and garden vines and walked back to Kiku. All while wearing a sour expression on her face, Mei kneeled down, placed the crutch upon his chest, and then crossed her arms in the same manner of a five-year-old.   
“If you must move around,” she sighed disapprovingly, “then you have to use this. Please stop trying to hurt yourself; I didn’t make this thing for nothing.”   
Her bottom lip stuck out when Kiku started to chuckle to himself. “What’s so funny?”   
“Oh, nothing.” He smiled slightly. “It’s just that you’re a very worrisome person.”   
She narrowed her eyes as he chuckled once more. “Of course I’m worrisome! I have a Japanese solider living under my roof who injured himself and still continues to do so by moving around when he shouldn’t be.”   
Kiku’s quiet laughter slowly died down and then looked up at her again. “Yes, ma’am. I am sorry if I added to your stress.” He grabbed the bamboo crutch from his chest, sat up, and shakenly got to his feet. Mei watched him steady himself as best he could, limping toward the bedroom doorway. He peeked over his shoulder at her and asked her, “Would you care to go on a walk with me?”   
Mei adjusted the cherry blossom in her tangled hair before standing up and smoothing out her wrinkled dress (which was the color of a blue jay’s wings). “I suppose I have to because who else is going to pick you up when you trip again?”   
This time both Kiku and Mei shared a laugh at her comment.   
As she strolled ahead of him to open the front door and helped him safely descend the few sets of stairs and onto the soft ground below, little sparks of memories flickered to life, all consisting of Kiku.   
The soldier’s attitude had changed drastically in the past week (and in a positive way at that). It probably had to do with Mei’s talkative and friendly self. How she practically forced him to answer her random questions like “what’s Japan like?” and “do you have a family? Who are they?” She succeeded somewhat in making Kiku more honest, though he didn’t speak about the explosions in the distance or the faint scent of gunpowder. So she decided to play along with his game of silence—for now anyway.   
Even though he was plenty mysterious and always quiet, Kiku was also helpful and extremely smart. She remembered earlier in the week sitting with the boy in her room while sewing a new dress for herself. She talked endlessly to him about many things, but she knew that she didn’t speak of the art of sewing to him because when she left the room to gather more thread for herself, she returned to find him slowly tying one of the seams in the dress.   
There was also a time when Mei brought in some fish she caught at a nearby lake and Kiku offered to cut up and prepare the sea creatures for dinner that night. Surprised but thankful, Mei allowed him to do so, supplying him with a cutting board and a sharp knife. She sat next to him, watching his knife speedily chop at the small tuna and point out some random facts on how to properly prepare and cook a tuna fish (which Mei took notes on).   
Everything about him seemed to capture her full attention, both physically and mentally.   
They walked side by side together across the soft earth. Kiku gripped his bamboo crutch in his right hand, slowly trudging along as Mei patiently stayed with his pace, hovering her arms around his side whenever he stumbled or paused for a breath. They’d been out walking twice before today and the injured solider actually did fall once during their short travels and Mei was quick to act; she had thrown herself to the ground, stomach landing on the muddy floor, just as the boy dropped to her back with a heavy thud. Mei remembered feeling his weight on top of her, Kiku scrambling to get off of her as she laughed uncontrollably at her own silly plan of action. He eventually pushed himself off, lying beside her on the crumbly ground, staring at her giggly self before ultimately smirking in amusement and then chuckling along with her.   
Mei bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing all over again.   
The two came to a stop at the same pond where Mei sometimes caught fish or washed her clothes. The pond itself was not very wide—it was about the size of two fat palm trees pushed together. The green grass was growing taller the further they walked; she felt it softly brush against her small knees. Thick and tall hemlock trees surrounded them, all closely packed together. Birds sang from above and dragonflies bounced around the surface of the water. Sunlight streamed in through the gaps in the trees, highlighting the bark on the trees, the fish in the pond, the flyaway strands in her and Kiku’s hair.   
As Kiku leaned against the trunk of a tree, Mei strolled over to the tiny pond and crouched beside it. She could see small tuna fish swimming about, going in no particular pattern. She dipped her hand into the warm water and watched the creatures quickly flap their fins and head in the opposite direction of her limb. A giggle escaped her as she wiggled her fingers at the fish, greeting them.   
“When do you believe your parents will be coming back?” she heard Kiku suddenly ask.   
She turned her head toward him. He was looking at her with a somewhat saddened expression on his face. His shoulder and chest rested against the tree and he limply held the bamboo crutch in his right hand. Something about him seemed so…mournful, so distressed.   
“They should be back any day now,” she answered him. She watched him slowly nod his head and glance the other way like he knew something she didn’t, some sort of awful news. She narrowed her eyes and added in a firm voice, “They are coming back. I don’t know what makes you think otherwise, but they will return. They always do.”   
Perhaps it was her determined tone that made Kiku blink out of his heavy trance and nod reassuringly, probably more so for himself than for her sake. “Yes,” he hesitantly agreed, “they will.”   
A short moment of silence swam around them, much like the tuna fish down in the warm pond. Mei thought about what Kiku had told her of the explosions and the screams of men. A shudder ran down her spine, causing her to jerk her hand out of the water with a loud splash.   
She heard Kiku call out “Are you okay?” and stumble toward her with his limp foot and crutch as she sat back on the soft grass surrounding her, temporarily struck by what her mind conjured up. Weapons that created powerful blasts, smells of smoke and blood, cries of pain and loss, people with missing body parts. It all crumpled up into a ball and weighted down in her chest, much too heavy to carry around. It felt just like a burden, a broken heart, an agonizing plead for forgiveness. She didn’t experience the things Kiku did, out there at the beach, but she could still feel that hefty numbness within.   
Just as Kiku lightly touched her shoulder, Mei looked up at him with sadness watering in her big brown eyes. “How do you do it?” she asked him, bottom lip quivering a bit. When his eyebrows crinkled in confusion, she asked, “How do you keep yourself from remembering everything?”   
The solider blinked in realization and then lowered his eyes, staring into the fish-infested pond. He didn’t answer right away which made her cringe even more. Did he have no escape, no place to go to when the screams in his head became too much? Mei’s heart ached for his comfort.   
But then he let a slow smile tilt his thin lips up, his gaze still locked on the swaying fish. “I think of someplace safe,” he answered softly. “Someplace quiet and safe. It used to be my home in Japan but, to be honest, I now find the nature of Taiwan more appealing.”   
He looked at her and smiled, really smiled—his white teeth shone just as brightly as the morning sun behind him, his skin crinkled around his small eyes. The tight feeling in Mei’s chest subsided as she stared wonderingly at his creased lips. She never saw him smile—not fully like this, at least—and the sight was truly amazing. Better than any other sunset or waterfall or seashore.   
Once her heartbeat slowed down to its normal pace, she finally returned the smile and said, “Then I’ve got just the place for you.”   
She bounced up from her spot on the ground and glanced happily down at Kiku. He caught her eyes and gave her a confused look. She went to wrap her small hands around his arm (his good one), gently brought him up to his feet, and then let him go before hurrying ahead, excitement flowing through her veins.   
“Come on!” she called to him, stopping to look behind her, her smile stretching from ear to ear. “Hurry up, Kiku!”   
“Where are we going?” Kiku struggled to keep up, though he also had a smile sneaking upon his face.   
“You’ll see. I think you’ll like it very much.”   
Mei continued to guide Kiku through the crowded forest. She would occasionally pause her feet and glance behind her, waiting for the limping boy to waddle up to her before grinning widely and skipping ahead. She sometimes yelled things like “Kiku, limp faster!” or “We’re almost there!” in an eager voice and hopped in place and giggled to herself. Kiku, still puzzled but accepting, smirked and stumbled among the rocks and patches of grass, sometimes laughing along with her just because she was.   
Finally Mei pushed a leafy tree branch to the side and smiled victoriously as she set her eyes on her destination in front of her. She bounced aside, still holding the branch, and glanced back at Kiku, who was slowly escalating the short hill they just climbed. When he looked up at her with flushed cheeks and panting breath, she brightened her smile and said, “Here we are.”   
She watched his expression change as he observed Mei’s favorite spot on the whole island: the place where that lonesome cherry blossom tree sat by the trickling river.   
She knew the scene like the back of her hand—she knew where everything was placed and the times of the day when you could experience certain happenings like when the sunrise was the most enchanting or when two bluebirds would nestle together on the lowest branch of the tree before drifting off into the sky once again. But now she was much interested in learning a new land, study its features.   
Her heart soared as she examined Kiku’s reaction to the landscape before them. She witnessed his dark eyes expand and flicker around him, trying to capture everything at once. His thin lips were left ajar and she swore she saw the faintest tinge of pink bloom across his cheekbones. His body didn’t move, but the wind lightly licked his hair and clothes, making them flutter slightly around him.   
Mei realized that the longer she stared, the more butterflies would tug at her heart. She then thought that Kiku Honda, the young and inexperienced solider, was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen, inside and out.   
As soon as the thought crossed her mind, Mei whipped her head toward the cherry blossom tree ahead, suddenly feeling self-conscious. Why was that? Why was she experiencing sudden nervousness in her chest? She decided to ignore this unexpected sensation as best she could and gently took hold of Kiku’s empty hand, slowly guiding him to her beloved tree.   
“My parents used to bring me here all the time,” she explained, the warmth in Kiku’s palm spreading throughout her hand as they strolled by the calming river. “Now I come here whenever I’m sad or lonely.” She pointed at the distant hills across from them. “I usually sit under the tree and watch the sunrise. It’s really beautiful here.”   
Unlike Mei, who was very aware of their handhold, Kiku scanned the area in complete awe. His grip on her was loose as he was much too distracted by the chirping birds and flowing river. Mei only smiled faintly, pulling him along.   
“But now this place can be yours too. I’ll show you where the river flows, I’ll introduce you to all my animal friends, and I’ll watch the sunrise with you.”   
She could only hope that he knew she wasn’t talking about the cherry blossom tree.   
When he finally looked at her with understanding in his eyes, she felt her smile broaden as she added, “You’ll be safe here. I promise.”   
After she proclaimed these words, she realized that Kiku had uttered the same promise to her, saying he would protect her from any harm that anyone could cause. They both volunteered themselves to the other without really knowing each other.   
Love can make people do strange things, Mei thought as she rested her head against Kiku’s shoulder, looking out into the clear blue sky ahead of them, feeling his stiff body finally relax into hers.


End file.
